Observations of an Oak Tree
by Rinkinkirs
Summary: Haven't you heard? Even trees have ears. Harry/Charlie.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** A ficlet I wrote for Tyan. If I add to it, it will be Charlie/Harry.  
**Disclaimer:** Ah, why bother.  
**Summary:** "Even the nicest of days can be even nicer with nice encouragement."

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**Observations of an Oak Tree  
-01-**

'Hello, kiddo.'

Charlie grinned at him. Harry did not grin back; merely rested his head against the trunk of the huge oak tree behind him.

'I'm not a kid,' Harry said.

Charlie seemed to catch on to his mood; he put a hand on his shoulder, squeezed briefly, and sat down.

It was a wonderful day: the sun was shining, birds were doing whatever birds did and Charlie was being the eternal optimist.

Harry was obviously not. His magic, which usually gave him a neutral powerful aura (in the manner that powerful auras _could_ be neutral), now reeked… _black_. Or perhaps a dark, dark blue. Ah; blue, that was the word.

'Care to tell me what's up, kiddo?'

The already oppressive air seemed to thicken.

'I'm not a kid.'

Charlie picked at the bark of the oak tree.

'I know.'

And all of a sudden, the day seemed so much brighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Spur-of-the-moment thing. No plot _yet_, just the eternal battle of pessimism versus optimism. To answer the reviewer; I'm not sure why Harry is down yet. I'll probably find out soon.  
**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I do not own.  
**Summary:** "Even the nicest of days can be even nicer with nice encouragement." Hints at Harry/Charlie.

* * *

**Observations of an Oak Tree  
-02-**

'Sitting beneath your sulking-tree again?'

Charlie sat down, huffing when his bum hit the ground, and leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree. Harry stared at him, torn between feeling indignant about being bothered and pleased that someone cared to find him. When Charlie stared expectantly at him, he sighed, determining that negativity took too much energy to be good for anything when it came to Charlie.

'I guess,' Harry said.

A strong arm sneaked behind Harry's neck and drew him against Charlie's chest.

'You really should stop worrying all the time. It's not good for your skin,' Charlie said.

Harry hid his pink cheek against Charlie's shoulder, and Charlie chuckled; his chest vibrated, making Harry's head feel a little light.

'It'll make you get wrinkles before your time, and that would mean a significant decrease to the average beauty of mankind.' Charlie's eyes glinted with mischief. 'We wouldn't want that, right?'

Harry didn't answer, so Charlie poked him; upon having his hand batted away, the red-head moved him from his shoulder to get a good look at his expression.

'Um, right…' Harry said, looking barely short of dying from embarrassment.

'You could be a tad more enthusiastic, Mr Tomato.'

'Charlie!'

Charlie grinned as Harry spluttered, and messed up the black hair with the result of making him look positively like a savage. Hiding his face – now in the crook of Charlie's neck – Harry murmured something unintelligible; Charlie chuckled again, making Harry squirm.

'Just… sod off,' Harry managed after a little while, gaining a laugh from Charlie. 'Why are you being the antithesis of depression anyway?'

'Might be due to finding my old storeroom for odds and ends. But… nah. It's just one of those days when everything seems fine.' His voice took on a certain sing-song quality as he continued. 'I think the twins spiked my food, but I don't really want to know, so I resolved that happiness was happiness and blast paranoia.'

It was Harry's turn to have a go at optimism.

'Oh dear,' Charlie said with wide eyes, 'we have a giggle-git in the house. Call for the aurors! The world is ending! Harry Potter isn't depressed!'

Harry coughed something sounding suspiciously like 'git'.

'Love you too, wacko,' Charlie said, grinning. 'You need to get a grip on those blushes. Can't be healthy.'

'It's your damn fault, Charlie!'

'It's practice, young man. Now, time for dinner, come on.'

Without further ado, Charlie picked Harry up, threw him over his shoulder and walked towards the house while Harry shouted and kicked and, somewhere in the middle of his chest, felt warm and safe.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello, Harry."

Harry looked up. Charlie was standing in front of him: against the backdrop of cloudy heaven and with burning hair lit by the sun, he looked divine. He felt his face warm at the thought, and averted his gaze hurriedly.

"Er, Charlie. Hi."

Charlie chuckled, sitting down next to him below the large oak. Their thighs brushed together, but when Charlie made no indication that he would shift away, Harry stubbornly refused to move. After all, he was there first, and besides, if he didn't feel like moving, well, he didn't feel like moving. And it had nothing to do with the warmth that flooded his skin or the slight rise in his heartbeat.

"You seem to like trees a lot, don't you?" Charlie said. Harry made a rather neutral noise, but said nothing.

An arm curled around his shoulders, and he looked up at Charlie's freckled face. He looked rather handsome in the shadow, too, Harry noted to himself. Charlie moved a little closer. Their noses brushed, and Charlie closed his eyes.

"Charlie?" Harry said quietly, afraid of destroying the odd moment they seemed to be caught up in. "Are you all right?"

"Just give me a second," Charlie whispered. He inhaled slowly, his nose brushing across Harry's cheek and all of a sudden tickling his neck. Harry sat very still in their awkward embrace, not daring to wonder. He couldn't think clearly, but he doubted Charlie could either.

"Charlie," he said, a little louder. "Charlie. Look at me."

Their eyes met in a clash of warm brown and verdant green: Harry was a crown of leaves, Charlie was his throne – and their petals touched with a soft sigh.

And then it was over. Charlie swept his thumbs across Harry's cheeks, frantically brushing away the tears that wouldn't stop coming, and Harry started laughing.

"Charlie-"

"Oh, Merlin, Harry – I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have – stop laughing, it isn't funny, I'll-"

Harry covered Charlie's hands with his own, trying to catch the brown eyes again.

"Charlie, calm down."

Charlie kept brushing away the wet trails on Harry's cheeks, so Harry simply took hold of his hands and forcibly removed them.

"Harry, I-"

He was cut off by a fierce kiss, and Harry smirked victoriously against his lips. Charlie didn't move, and Harry saw himself forced to retract.

"Harry," Charlie began, trailing off at the dejected look on Harry's face. "We can't. You're fourteen, and I- I'm an _adult_. You're too young, just a kid-"

And that was all he had time to say before Harry was gone, and Charlie lay against the trunk of the oak tree, stunned.

All he could think of was the sharp sting in his cheek and how Harry's eyes looked when Charlie had called him a child.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** Still no plot worthy of being called plot. It was just resting on my computer for so long, so I added a bit to it and decided to post it, since this is my don't-worry-about-plot-or-anything-else story. Or my "just relax" story. But if you want to make a suggestion, it would be welcome.

* * *

**Part four**

Their argument had been stopped by a stressed Molly trying to get everyone together for dinner, and Harry had escaped to Ron's room not long after. When the next morning came, Harry had already left the house.

Even before Charlie approached the tree, he knew Harry would be there. He didn't know how he knew, but Harry had never been one to hide from a conflict – he raged through it with all of his fiery passion, and though that often created more conflicts, no one could say he was a coward. Far from it, in fact, though that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

There was such a thing as too much courage, Charlie thought as he stepped into Harry's line of sight, and now he was playing with an angry dragon.

Well, he supposed it was all the better, considering his occupation.

"Hello, there," Charlie said quietly. Harry scowled at the ground. Charlie sat down beside him, ignoring Harry's flinch when their knees brushed. The wind brushed gently through his hair. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like… Harry, please. You know I'm pants at explaining stuff like that."

Harry sent him a look. "Do explain," he said.

"You're younger than me," Charlie said. "A lot, too. It would be… frowned upon, at best. And I'm still in Romania, you know. You'd have no direct support."

From the Burrow came the sound of falling pots and loud voices. Charlie found himself smiling a little; it was always good to be home – especially with Harry by his side.

"I care about you a lot, Harry. But I'm not sure that will be enough."

"Stupid git…"

And with that enlightening comment, Harry draped himself over Charlie's lap.

"I take it that I'm forgiven?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Fine, I won't."

His freckled fingers weaved through black hair, swirling and twisting and brushing out tangles.

"Will you wait?" Harry said.

"For what?"

"For me. Next summer."

Charlie chuckled. "I suppose I will," he said. "I'll send letters."

"You better." Harry paused. "Can I kiss you?"

Charlie peered down at him. Harry looked so… innocent, somehow, even asking him for not-quite-so-innocent things. (There was something about his grin that made Charlie suspicious of his intentions, which most likely consisted of kissing turning into touching.)

"If we keep it chaste, I don't see a problem," he muttered. "But whatever you're thinking about, I'm sure we better not."

Harry pouted, but sat up, facing Charlie as he bit his lip. Charlie smiled.

"You're quirky, Harry," he said.

Then, he leaned forward to brush their lips together.

He chuckled as Harry blinked at him with wide eyes, seeming to realise that perhaps he wasn't ready for anything more overwhelming than kissing quite yet.

"Again?" Harry whispered.

Who was Charlie to deny him?


End file.
